


A Shelter for Flame

by ShinysMindPalace



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls III
Genre: Bestiality, Dubious Consent, F/M, Other, Transformation, Unbirthing, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-04 04:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14584710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinysMindPalace/pseuds/ShinysMindPalace
Summary: dark souls porn involving a crystal lizard (big). Apparently there is a meme of making porn of the little ones.





	1. A Summoned Heir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Baeowulf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baeowulf/gifts).



> This is gonna be a long fic. Might not even be smut this chapter. But I tagged everything ahead of time so I wouldn't forget.

> _The **bells tolled**_ , _and awakened five Lords, yet one Heir. The stone shifted to a side for them, and the **Flame** quivered where they tread. But one Heir rose, meek and unassuming, from a granite coffin in a forgotten cemetery, and in this Heir’s breath, the **Flame** would take shelter._

 

An unassuming, grey day meets an unassuming, greyed hollow with its unassuming, maddening boredom gripping the hollow's attention firmly as one Heir rises from their coffin, just up the hill. One, lonely, unassuming, grey Heir, deprived rags hanging on their bony frame to imply dignity that simply isn't there, slowly makes their way down towards a lone Hollow, the unassuming weight of the club they were buried with a flimsy prayer against a very, very difficult battle ahead. The Heir would notice their humiliating plank shield back in their coffin upon their inevitable return, but as they descend the hill, they wish to themselves there was some protection for their sorry hide. They remember little from before they were interred, just a bright, searing pain, and a feeling of failure, hanging about the Heir's mind like a fog, seeming to cling to their body as they approach the hollow. 

 

Blind eyesockets turn to face the Heir, striking fear into the Heir's already shaky grip as it draws up its broken straight sword. On the ground, the Heir takes note of a message, red and glowing, make itself manifest on the stones beneath the hollow's feet, and it is this break in concentration that meets the Heir with a slash of a broken straight sword, the withered hollow croaking as breath stirs its lungs in memory of being alive, slashing the Heir with every bit of life left in them. The first gash bites, the second stings, but the third fails to hurt as the Heir falls to the earth, feeling at once for the first time and for the thousandth time the feeling of passing away as an Undead. The feeling of having just your essence drawn forth, teased out, and rekindled at a bonfire... wait, a bonfire? 

 

The Heir startles awake in their coffin, confused, ashamed, a headache forming behind their eyes as they slowly sit up, taking time to examine their coffin thoroughly. Bonfire... Bonfire... They remember that 'bonfire' wasn't how they'd phrase it when they saw one the first time... Breathing out, they lie back in their coffin, the stone no more comfortable than half-sat up as they close their eyes and think. Yes, bonfire. There's **fire** , and it never goes out... Maybe that's why they call it a bon **fire**... But there was something else odd about the little perpetual **flame** , too... what _was_ it? 

 

Thinking gets them nowhere, try as they might, so the Heir gives, resolving to think about it when next they perish.  When... Next... Why do they know it's going to happen again?? No, the Heir decides, they will survive, they're sure of it. They'll survive to spite themselves. That'll show them!! 

 

With renewed vigor, the Heir opens their eyes, examining their coffin once again. No signs of this bonfire thing... But, ah! A piece of protection! The Heir pulls themselves out of the coffin before they reach back in to grab the plank shield they were interred alongside, switching it between their hands until they find one that is more comfortable, slipping into a familiar stance. Their head hurts, but it seems... these... rememberings... perhaps they're memories, perhaps they're merely madness, but... they'll come when they want to. And no sooner than that. 

 

The Heir turns their attention once more to the hollow at the bottom of the hill, staring vacantly at nothing, broken sword clutched in hand like a child might hold their favorite blanket. This is familiar to them, now, they can do this. Hoisting their club, the Heir takes off down the hill, to get a running smack on the hollow that had yet seen them. It staggers wildly to retain its footing, but at the cost of not stopping the Heir's next blow, which knocks its head clean off, and into the rubbish by the edge of the path. The body stills slowly, falling to its knees, then collapsing completely, dissolving into spectral ash like the Heir had done before. A thin, barely-substantial whiff of souls makes its way to the Heir's chest, seeping into their flesh and bringing just a tad more solidity to their form, a flicker of feeling in their heart that the Heir knows to be an apology from the maddened hollow's soul. It would be heartbreaking, if it weren't so achingly familiar... Yet the Heir is positive this is the first time!!

 

"Agh...!" It is a pathetic sound, of conflict and pain, that rises from the  Heir's stilled lungs. They draw a deep, wholly useless breath, the habit of life having stuck with them this long, and gaze upon the world around them. The hollow dropped his sword, broken and useless, but the dulled blade might be useful for something, they're positive. So they pick it up, tuck it into the rope around their waist, and continue on, to the hollow crying by the bowl. With preemptive fervor, the Heir smashes this one into it, until it ceases moving, and its body dissipates, revealing the item it had been sitting upon. A glowing orange flask sits, clutched in the hands of a withered corpse, and the Heir is struck with a feeling of nostalgia, as though looking upon something once treasured by them. They can sort of see the value now, with its flickering surface and handsome shape... it's perfectly sized to drink out of, in fact, and the Heir chuckles to themselves as they mime doing just that, tilting the jug back over their open mouth

 

Why did they just spill vital sunlight on their face? What the fuck just came out of that?? Confused, they feel their body fill with a vital sort of light where it touches, but something reminds them that actually drinking this stuff is way more effective. The Heir turns the jug upright once more, staring into the top, but the **flames** within cannot be seen, except through the surface of the flask from the outside. What the actual hell?? 

 

"Augh..." They sigh, before tucking this familiar flask in their loincloth as well and heading out. A few more hollows, a few more deaths, but one gets the drop on the Heir, slashing their back while the other shot them in the side with a flaming arrow. It stings, and as the Heir wades through the water beyond the range of the shooter, they break off the shaft of the arrow in their side. They take their flask in hand, leaning against the rocky chasm, and take a drink, savoring the feeling of sunlight filling them completely, healing their flesh and spreading through every inch of them. It's the most pleasant feeling the Heir had the fortune to experience since awakening, though truer pleasures still lie ahead, sparking a renewed vigor in them as they return their flask to their hip and their shield to their hand. _Alright, strange cluster of graves past the water, do your worst,_ the Heir thought to themselves. 

 

And so it did, as the Ashen Heir emerged into the sight of the largest crystal lizard the Heir had ever seen. So stunned were they that the lizard hardly needed to go all out to kill the Heir, and yet, it did, hurtling itself down the hill in a wheel of crystal-spiked fury. 

 

The Heir wakes in their coffin, crystals still dancing in front of their eyes, moments later. Perhaps, they think, not that way. They'll go towards the arrow man, this time, and use their shield, like a smart person. As they move on, it seems their flask feels fuller, having died, but they don't feel like questioning why until after they defeat the hollows in the graves, glancing at the green **flame** of souls above the bloodstain where the Heir had just fallen. No... it's much too close to that crystal lizard to be worth their while... They head on without it, though they feel like perhaps they're missing something important. 

 

Into the gap and onto the cliff, the Ashen Heir raises their shield as a visor against the bright daylight, wind whipping at their bare skin, but the warmth of the flask keeps them from shivering as they crest the hill and come upon a... 

 

" **BONFIRE**!!" They shout, running to the coiled sword sticking out of the pile of white bone shards, its tiny, pathetic **flame** barely alive, simply waiting for the touch of an undead like the Heir. It flourishes to life, sending embers flying into the area around, and the Heir remembers Everything.

 

Things go black, but they sit at the bonfire, like an obedient undead, as the memories return to them. Why the **bells** awakened them. Once upon a time and a half ago, they were an undead of the Asylum, met with an opportunistic escape. An entrepreneurial eye lead them into many dangerous encounters, and on some, they came out on top. But after they discovered the golden lands of Anor Londo, they simply couldn't continue, they couldn't challenge the gods. So they fled, and died an awful, unassuming death, at the bottom of the catacombs, where they failed against Gravelord Nito. 

 

And now, they're alive again, no doubt to do this same song and dance again, but... this is nothing like where they were when they died. It's like emerging from the undead asylum all over again...

 

"Agh..." 

 

Well, now it means they just need to be clever about defeating those that lie in their way. Surely there's a way back to Firelink Shrine, and the maile-coated knight there might have an answer. The hill beyond the bonfire looks to be crawling with hollows, and if their past experience has taught them anything...

 

... progress is always at the end of a bunch of  _stupid fucking hollows_. 


	2. A Suit for Success

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2... i didn't get as far as i wanted last time, but i had to end it.

A bunch of stupid fucking hollows lay in the Ashen Heir's way, and a bunch of stupid fucking decisions, too. In short, the maze of hollowed warriors with only their fighting instincts left to them is complete ass to navigate, so the Ashen Heir chooses to circumvent as many as they can sprint past, leaping from one coffin on top of another, landing beside another corpse, this one clutching a tiny shard of titanite. The Heir scoops it up, glancing at the cliff, but their hollow pursuers seem unwilling to continue over the cliff. Perfect! Hopping down, they see a set of doors guarded by a hollow,  and glancing directly below them, they find another as well. Perfect... Tucking their shield into the rope around their chest, they take their club in two hands, and leap from the cliff, using the weight of their descent as leverage against this poor hollow. They can run past arrow man, barely dodging out of the way of the arrow they know to expect by now. Running by is easy, as is getting through the door, but when the hollow doesn't follow, the Heir feels a sinking feeling in their chest. 

 

Uh-oh. Progress. 

 

Looking upon the beautiful courtyard, the Heir notes that if the center of the courtyard wasn't... occupied, this would be a rather lovely place to have a picnic. As is, the center is occupied by a massive man, bent over, a coiled sword hilt sticking out of his chest, black, oozing tentacles out of his back, and a terrible aura from every inch of this heavily-armored creature. The Heir suddenly desires to use their shield, but they have a feeling it would be somewhat useless against this guy. They approach, warily, but... The man does not just get up and start wrecking the Heir's day, so perhaps he's safe to approach...? 

 

No, the bell didn't call upon the Ashen Heir for this to be safe. They instead elect to give the armored abomination a wide berth, heading to the doors on the far side of the courtyard. Hopeful, they push on them, but the doors are not made to open that direction, and no amount of pushing can convince them otherwise. It seems like they must...

 

Progress...

 

"Aughh..." They complain, heading back to the armored abomination, approaching him properly. He seems immobile to all approach, but... Surely the sword in his chest is doing something to him, no one is meant to use a coiled sword like that, right? Right. So, carefully, praying they'll earn a friend, the Heir removes the coiled sword from the chest of Iudex Gundyr, defender of the Cemetery of Ash. 

 

The Heir does not survive long. They didn't think they would, their first time,  but they hadn't realized how powerful of a soul they had encountered until they had been flattened by them. Honestly, they should feel ashamed, but all they feel is the sort of frustration that is best addressed by calming down and coming back to it later. Hm, come to think of it... Perhaps this big guy is tougher than that crystal thing that the Heir saw, and they certainly wouldn't complain about staring at that gorgeous crystal again... Perhaps that is how they will while away their time, until they've come to their senses again to defeat Iudex with a level head. Just gotta outwit him...

 

From the bonfire, and not their coffin, they find the archer hollow is facing the wrong way, so they end it gleefully, a surprise attack from behind finishing it in one blow. The two hollows in the water are dealt with,  and then, with a mostly-full Estus flask - yes, that's what it's called, Estus! - they enter once again into the sight of the crystal lizard. The lizard comes barreling for them, but the Ashen Heir is ready, dodging to the side at the last possible second so as to prevent the lizard from correcting its path, smacking it as hard as they can with their club. The lizard unrolls with a thud, its many legs helping it rise smoothly up, until its front legs are off the ground, before driving its jagged jaw and powerful forelegs down upon the Heir. Crystals sprout from the ground around the impact as the Heir goes down, shards of it sticking in their breast as they cry out in pain. 

 

In that moment, at the mercy of the lizard, the Heir has the time to admire the gorgeous crown of crystals that defend the snout of the lizard like a good, vizored helm, knowing the Heir will die at this lizard's hands. The crystals that stud its hide catch the light just so, refracting beautifully off the greyed rocks of the cemetery, and as the Ashen Heir's death is complete, they find themselves wishing they could be so lustrous, like an old friend of theirs... 

 

When they return at the bonfire, the Heir is determined to make that wish a reality, and many deaths later, the Heir has learned to navigate the Cemetery without Estus help, saving it for that stubborn lizard. The battle between the lizard and the Heir gets closer with each meeting, until finally, with an empty Estus flask and heavy wounds, the Ashen Heir stares down the crystal lizard for the last time. It had taken heavy damage, the Ashen Heir knocking in a few knees, but they avoided every patch of crystal on purpose. So when the lizard lifts its body to the sky to drive down another killing blow, the Heir beats it to the punch, smacking it in the throat and collapsing its trachea, killing it completely.

 

For a few moments, the  Heir doesn't register the lizard as being dead, as its body falls forward instead of fading away. Yet... This is the opportunity the Heir was looking for, so they jam their club between their teeth to bite down when the pain gets to be too much to bear, and take their broken straight sword out to begin carving the hide off this lizard. 

 

Hours later, they've made the skin, and after a day by the bonfire, the hide is ready to be rolled up and tucked into the strap on their back. With the hide in tow, the Ashen Heir must once again...

 

Progress...

"Augh..." 

 

Returning to Gundyr is easy. Killing him? Hard. But like with the crystal lizard, the Heir reminds themselves, Gundyr has a pattern. A formula for defeat. And after many, many attempts, the Heir finally kills the pus of man that erupted from the wound that was Gundyr. A bonfire appears in his stead, and it all clicks for the Heir, who takes the chance to rest. As they sit, however, they hear the far doors open, and they sigh in relief. Good, Gundyr was the worst thing this area had to throw at them. Now the Ashen Heir can head on, a full Estus flask in hand, and Gundyr's soul at home in the Heir's breast. 

 

The land beyond is full of hollows, but this building actually has a roof, so they must be going the right way. Evading the hollows is as simple as moving faster than their dulled senses can follow, which isn't very fast, as it turns out. They run inside the massive building, graves still hanging out all around, but within, candles fill the area with a shrinelike holiness, and within, a single woman stands by a bowl of what looks to be bone dust... hell, it looks like a dinky little lordvessel. But that can't be it, can it? 

 

"Ah!" They call down, but the woman does not turn, smiling as the Heir makes their way down the steps to stand in the ash beside the minivessel. 

 

"Welcome to the bonfire, Unkindled One. I am a Fire Keeper." She explains as the Heir arrives at her side, their questions silenced for the moment to let her explain. "I tend to the **flame** , and tend to thee. The Lords have left their thrones, and must be deliver'd to them. To this end, I am at thy side." 

 

"Aughhhh...." The Ashen Heir groans, because they totally called it. Well, perhaps this time, they won't fail. "... sorry... It's just been so long..." They murmur, but the fire keeper seems unfazed, smiling politely at the minivessel still, as though their unwillingness were expected. "How do I return them to their thrones? Or... I suppose, where is the bonfire? Thou art not much of a firekeeper without one." 

 

The firekeeper finally turns to the Ashen Heir, extending a hand. "Produce the coiled sword at the bonfire. The mark of ash will guide thee to the land of the Lords. To Lothric, where the homes of the Lords converge. If this suffices, I would help thee make use of the sovereignless souls thou have collected, to foment power within  thee." 

 

The Ashen Heir balks slightly, but... Lordran is where Firelink was once, so perhaps there it shall be again. Or... Perhaps this is the new Firelink? It certainly seems like it... Ah, it's of no matter, they need to focus and obey what the holy woman told them, producing the coiled sword they freed from Gundyr's chest, and with their hand covered by the fire keeper's, they place the sword into the vessel. It sparks to life almost immediately, the Ashen Heir contemplating it with a frown. It's nothing like Firelink Shrine, but it'll have to do... 

 

"Mistress Fire Keeper, how would we use those souls, again?" 

 

* * *

 

The fire keeper proved instrumental in teasing out the Heir's strengths, improving upon their vigor first and foremost, but when she had made the Ashen Heir as strong as she could, she did them the courtesy of showing them about the shrine, to the handmaid, and to Andre, their friendly smith. Introductions were made, and the Ashen Heir thanked the fire keeper for her help, waiting until she was out of earshot before they turn to  Andre. 

 

"Good Sir Andre, a word...?" They ask hopefully, the smith pausing in his work to look up at the Heir. 

 

"Aye?" The Ashen Heir can't help but notice how Andre watches the Heir's hands, suspicious, as though waiting for the moment the Heir would turn. They swallow their nerves, throat dry, as they reach behind them, pulling the lizard skin from their back. 

 

"Good Sir Andre, I would labor for thee a thousand years if thou wouldst use thy talent to create a suit of lizardskin armor for my humble body... I expect not thine compliance, but I will pay whatever price thou dost ask." They beg, kneeling to present the rolled up pelt to a very surprised smith. 

 

"... Quit yer grov'lin, ash, there'll be no fee for such a rare opportunity." Andre grumbles, taking the hide with calloused, steady hands. This skin... Andre thought it simply wasn't possible to obtain, or it would have been brought his way by now, after so many eons in service, and yet... Here he is. 

 

"Say," Andre intones, cutting the Heir off from attempting to thank him, looking the unassuming Undead over. "What's your name, ash?" 

 

The Heir pauses to contemplate that question, before shrugging as they stand. 

 

"I'm Nobody." 


	3. An Omen of Crystal

It took a few days to make all the links for the maile, a week to work in the titanite to make it the same color as the hide, and another week to link all the links together to a frame for attaching the rivets that would hold the hide on. The whole suit was an undertaking that Andre finds himself wondering why he never undertook it before. While he worked on the maile, he instructed the Ashen Heir in how to work faded souls into the crystal hide, setting it out to dry by the heat of Andre's forge, and Nobody followed his orders to the letter. It was to be a fine day for Andre, and even finer still a piece to be made. He was almost sad to see the piece go, much like a father, and it occurred to him, as Nobody donned their armor, that perhaps his daily work was... tiresome, if his heart was not yet attached to his other pieces. It brought him a good dose of refreshment to work on something truly new like this, but perhaps he's squandering his talent, repairing the works of other forgemasters in place of his own. 

 

"Now, prithee be careful," Andre warns as he looks Nobody over. The suit fits perfectly, even if the metal tail drags the ground because of Nobody's height. Nobody insisted it is left that way, but it stirs a primal sort of fear in Andre's heart, to think of how the metal will tarnish as its dragged across the ground. "... I don't want to see my work squandered, and I mean it." Nobody nods, the crystal visor of their helm falling forward and startling the Ashen Heir. Andre feels his heart sink, and he begins to devise how he will improve the design such that it suffers less at the hands of its user, watching the Heir intently as Nobody gives Andre a thumb's up with cold worry in his gut.

 

Turning on their heel, the Ashen Heir heads for the bonfire, and with the Fire Keeper's help, makes the transition between bonfires for the first time as they head for the High Wall of Lothric. They even make it to the first bonfire unaccosted, their ember no longer burning in their breast to hail foreign invaders, and set about readying themselves for the path ahead. Their armor is heavy, it makes rolling nearly impossible, but the Ashen Heir is positive some good ol' souls will help fix that, if memory serves. 

 

Nobody finds the way forward through dedication, carving the way to Vordt, before convincing him to charge right off the cliff into his death, Nobody reaping the wealth of souls the dog of the Boreal Valley left behind. The Undead Settlement introduced Nobody to Holy Knight Hodric's true location and taught Nobody about the fragile, frail shackles of the gods, and where to offer them up for sanity. With a little extra advice, Nobody befriended the Giant of the Undead Settlement, then a kindly onion knight, before proceeding to the Curse Rotted Greatwood first. When at last it fell to Nobody's ill-gotten harpe, they found the way into the crucifixion woods, and from there, to the Crystal Sage, one of two. The Sage's crystal charade proved ineffective against crystal lizard hide, which made Nobody favor rolling as it became more and more reliable as a defense strategy, yet...

 

... The Ashen Heir could not pull their attention from the beautiful crystals the Sage summoned forth to encase and kill them, and die they did until they finally brought the courage to use their visor to block out unnecessary light. Crystal before them, they wouldn't be so drawn to death if they could satisfy with the crystal before them...! 

 

Nobody kills the Crystal Sage, rolling like a true crystal lizard towards the Sage's demise, but something stuck out, in their mind. Bonfire claimed, Nobody cleaned the fort the Sage borrowed from the Undead Legion, shredding hollows and looking for answers, for where that crystal came from. The first answer was a small titanite lizard, one bearing a crystal gem in its heart, Nobody watching as its life fades, and for the first time since beginning this whole, awful journey from the Undead Asylum onwards, Nobody felt guilty for the death of a crystal lizard. The second answer came when the Ashen Heir found Orbeck hiding on the second floor of the fort, and the two discussed the nature of the Sage, much to Orbeck's interest. 

 

Nobody made it to the Cleansing Chapel, and there, Nobody encountered the first crystal lizard they'd seen since they slew the first in place of Gundyr. But something was wholly different about this one, as Nobody crested the depressed steps beside the water. Hidden among a small garden of beautiful crystal, Nobody watched in awe as the crystal lizard lifts its gaze to where they were standing, analyzing. 


	4. Visions of Crystal, then try rolling!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there might actually be smut this time!!!

The visor had been propped up so Nobody could see, but as though chance demanded it, it fell just as the lizard started to stand, leaving Nobody panicking and trying to tear out the rags from the narrow view slot, vulnerable.

_Crunch, thud, thunk..._

The blockage comes out just in time for Nobody to catch sight of a massive crystal lizard barreling towards them, but their posture seems... off. Nobody raises their shield, the Grass Crest filling them with a false sense of security, of safety, even! But no shield would defend Nobody from the Ravenous Crystal Lizard’s assault, not as the lizard’s tail slams into the earth, crystal spikes staking themselves there for the lizard to haul themself up to a sit, planting their hind legs as all the remaining six reach out. Nobody has the sense to drop their shield and turn to run, but not the speed to make good on it, the lizard springing forward and tackling them to the ground.

 

Nobody, quite certain of their own demise, hits the ground with a whimper as the air is knocked forcibly from their lungs, unable to get further than getting to their elbows and knees before the lizard’s limbs wrap tight around Nobody, two for their hands, taking each wrist with almost delicate regard for their crystal armor,  two for their midsection, and the last two on their thighs, holding Nobody flush with the crystal lizard, or at least, as flush as you can get when you’re wearing a ravenous crystal lizard’s hide on your back. Panting, Nobody wonders why crystal hasn’t come up to slice through their throat just yet, their breaths deafening in their ears behind their visor.

 

The answer is quite simple, really, but not one Nobody would learn until much later. See, as crystal lizards go, the huge, ravenous crystal lizards that make their homes in the Cemetery of Ash, Crucifixion Woods’ Fort, and the Cleansing Chapel, are really quite identical. Physiologically, psychologically, no matter how you feel like slicing it. The curious thing is, even titanite bugs are capable of reproduction, though the bigger the lizard, the faster their bodies can create new life. In particular, a well-fed lizard will almost always feel drawn to the idea of making more, as their body urges them to do what nature intended.

 

In the Cemetery of Ash, food is plentiful, but poor in value, and so the Ravenous Crystal Lizard who lives there spends all day eating, and all night sleeping, with no time to find a mate.

In the Crucifixion Woods, food is far less common, and much of it has angry wooden toothpicks, but the value is not much higher, and so the Ravenous Crystal Lizard who lives there spends all day sleeping, preying only upon those of vast strength who would dare rend the lizard’s scales from its body.

But in the Cleansing Chapel, food is plentiful and strong. For the clever Ravenous Crystal Lizard who lives there, leech-ridden adventurers stumble into their lap all the time, and the Lizard spends much of the day preening instead of sleeping or eating. So plentiful was their home, the Ravenous Crystal Lizard felt the urge to share it with a mate, and so built a crystal garden made from shards from their own hide to dazzle mates into fucking them on sight. It helps that the crystal garden drew yet more adventurers, those who thought they could be sneaky and just steal a crystal instead of the lizard’s hide. Suffice to say, none of them survived those encounters.

 

Yet, here Nobody was, a dinky, deformed crystal lizard in the eyes of the Ravenous Crystal Lizard of the Cathedral of the Deep, who not only answered their call, but went so far as to turn around in a motion the lizard can only interpret as eagerness. So with their mate secured, the lizard affectionately nuzzles Nobody’s visor, much to the Undead’s supreme confusion, the lizard freeing its tail from the earth to wrap around the dragging metal tail of Nobody’s armor, affectionate. Breath barely caught, Nobody feels their heart sink when the lizard’s arms around their midsection begin to move, but... It’s like they’re stroking them, not murdering the shit out of them. What the fuck?

 

“The fuck,” as it turns out, is the lizard, the hands on Nobody’s thighs beginning to move upwards, to find a heavily stylized chink in Nobody’s armor. See, since the hide itself already had a vent in it, Andre saw no reason not to work the protective flesh in to Nobody’s pants, and of course, the vent comes open so Nobody can answer the call of nature. Seems this time, however, it’s the crystal lizard’s nature calling, rough, scaly fingers rubbing along the vent in Nobody’s armor. They tremble, confused, but alive, hanging their head as the lizard draws a soft moan from them. Their visor muffles the sound for the lizard, but the lizard happily laps up the encouragement as they nuzzle Nobody’s visor, rumbling as their clawed fingers press to the sensitive, bare flesh beneath, rubbing back and forth in a peace offering towards their new mate. It’s not easy, with the Lizard’s weight bearing down on Nobody, but they spread their knees just a bit wider for the lizard, leaning into the feeling. It’s much better than dying, compliance, and if Nobody’s lucky, it’ll even feel nice. 

 

They would change their mind if they saw the size of the creature’s waiting shaft, but there’s no seeing through this fucking visor, just a slit where their chin and the end of the visor have some clearance from each other. They can see the arms holding them tight, pinning them still, but inside, they are grateful they can’t even dream of escape, closing their eyes to focus on being compliant. They almost wish they could lift their tail to the lizard, but Nobody had no need, with the lizard shoving itself forward, spreading Nobody’s vent as an afterthought as their diamond-shaped head rams against Nobody’s anus, and with another shove, through it. Nobody can’t shriek for the feeling of having the wind knocked from their lungs at the amount of force, pain causing their limbs to shake, tears forming behind closed eyes as they pant into their helm, sucking breath like it would somehow matter. 

 

To the lizard’s credit, they didn’t quite figure out this was no crystal lizard, and consequently, this wasn’t going to lead to any form of reproduction, but they most certainly did figure out that this feels  _ awesome _ , for the lizard. A delighted grunt rises from the lizard with the hasty wobble of its hips forward, struggling to push further in for a few moments, before getting frustrated with their lack of progress, pulling out completely. Flipping Nobody is trivial, for the lizard, the Undead yelping as they are upended, flipped over so their vent is in the lizard’s face. They hear crystal shatter, and for a moment, Nobody thinks the ruse is up, that this lizard has figured them out, but no, they simply have a better idea. The sound of crystal breaking accompanies the opening of the lizard’s jagged, crystal maw, their long, thick tongue snaking out of their mouth to dive into Nobody’s vent once again. Everything’s easier when you lick it a bunch, the lizard had discovered, and Nobody is no exception, shuddering as their legs stick out awkwardly in the air, their tail sagging limply to the side over the lizard’s shoulder. With slightly more freedom, Nobody braces their hand against the ground, panting hard and trying to see if there’s not still some way to escape, unable to resist a groan when the lizard’s thick, excited tongue presses up against something inside Nobody’s body, pleasure flashing through their mind and snapping their willpower in half. The lizard notes the way that Nobody’s body relaxes, and within a few wild strokes of their tongue, the lizard has pinpointed that spot, memorizing it for later. 

 

Nobody’s body barely resists being flipped once again, if getting comfortable can be counted as resisting, getting to their knees again, but in place of letting the lizard get the drop on them again, Nobody braces one arm against the ground, the other going back to lift their tail out of the way. Nobody’s mate could not be more excited by the gesture, grabbing Nobody by the hips this time as they circle Nobody protectively with their remaining four arms, nuzzling the back of Nobody’s neck as the lizard’s tip aligns with Nobody’s vent once more. Steeling themself, Nobody manages to suck a breath in before the lizard shoves itself forward, getting  _ much _ further this time as Nobody cries out. It’s so much thicker towards the base, Nobody sincerely doubts there’s any more the lizard can force inside, but doubt does not exist in the eyes of the crystal lizard. It feels so good for the lizard, it’s easy to get carried away, short, happy little thrusts making headway until Nobody and the lizard’s hips were finally flush, the Undead trembling, feeling fit to burst. The sheer girth of the lizard’s cock presses against  that sweet spot deep inside Nobody, their vision filled with white as the lizard begins to move, jabbing that sweet spot with each and every movement. 

 

Crystal fragments fall from both the lizard and the imitator, the echoes of their union filing down the chasm to the untended graves beyond. Nobody hardly believes this is even happening, head down as their body rocks forward with each thrust. They can’t think, at least, not for long, each jab to their sweet spot scattering Nobody’s train of thought like breadcrumbs before crows, and somewhere in the back of their mind, they figure this lizard will probably need to orgasm in order to leave Nobody alone, but the thought is fragmented, scattered, and all Nobody holds onto is the idea of making the lizard cum having some reward for them. Abandoning holding their tail aside, Nobody reaches their hand instead to take one of the lizard’s, squeezing it tight as they intentionally clench around the lizard’s shaft, drawing a happy sound from deep in the lizard’s core, one that almost reverberates through Nobody too due to how close they are. Once, twice, Nobody manages to do that again a total of five times before Nobody’s world is briefly washed away in white hot pleasure, their own orgasm hitting like a cathedral full of bricks, and when they return to the world, they feel overfull, their belly straining against the chain that covers their stomach. The lizard hilts one last time, and as Nobody collects their wits, they put two and two together about where the sudden fullness came from, and ever so slowly, they let go of the lizard’s hand, letting them pull out of Nobody and curl around them, clutching Nobody to their chest as they take them back to where the lizard normally rests. 

 

It was going to be a long night, for Nobody. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost progress on this chapter three separate times, that I remember, and probably a few more that I forgot.


	5. be wary of fire keeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> less smut.

A night turned to dawn with a rather sore Undead cuddled up in the arms of a crystal lizard, which has finally passed into unconsciousness. Nobody, being a creature of habit, hardly dared move, fearing disturbing the creature, but slowly, they reached for their belt, and took one of the charred, purified bones that clerics used to return home. Just a snap, and Nobody’s body is encased in light, brought back to Firelink Shrine for the Firekeeper to tend to, falling to their knees in the ash beside the bonfire bowl. 

 

“Ashen One?” The Firekeeper’s normally bland, placid tone finally takes on a bit of worry, and even down the hall, the Handmaiden and Andre glance up at what had happened. Their chain nearly split from the hide its pinned to, Nobody’s belly is round with a night’s honeymooning, and their suit’s vent stained with the same, but beneath their visor, Nobody is smiling wide at the sightless Firekeeper. 

 

“... Didst thou know…” Nobody asks, voice hoarse. “... ravenous crystal lizards can be affectionate?” They cough, the Firekeeper silent with confusion behind her crown. It makes Nobody almost pity them, taking the Firekeeper’s assistance in standing, legs trembling, sore. “It’s true… I learn’d firsthand…” 

 

“Ashen One, be still, if thou would. I am afraid thou art in need of rest… and perhaps a bath.” The Firekeeper implores softly, beckoning Hawkwood with a nod to help move the Ashen Heir up the stairs, towards the entry. Nobody protests weakly, dragging their feet, and going limp, so with a sigh, Hawkwood takes over for the Firekeeper, hefting Nobody over his shoulder and carrying them towards the door as Nobody groans in discomfort. 

 

“But it's true…” Nobody complains to no one, as Hawkwood stopped listening when Nobody stopped helping. 

 

“Give it a rest, will you? Provoking a Firekeeper is almost as stupid as your daft, bell-given task.” Hawkwood retorts, effectively shutting Nobody up as he carries Nobody towards the bonfire by Iudex Gundyr’s once-resting place, the shallow water ideal for drowning idiots who can’t die. “... what in the name of the gods are you wearing, anyways? Don’t tell me you’re actually  _ trying _ to defeat the Lords…?” 

 

Nobody coughs before they answer, Hawkwood dumping Nobody beside the bonfire and taking a seat on the steps, the Ashen Heir groaning in pain and lying still for a while. “... yes, I am. I think. I don’t really know, anymore.” Nobody admits, staring into the clouded, blandly luminous sky. It feels incomplete, but perhaps it is simply Nobody projecting onto… clouds. Yeah. Okay. 

 

“And yet you chase the Lords with such a weak resolve…?” Hawkwood snorts derisively, shaking his head as Nobody sits up, slowly scooting over to the water to begin to wash themselves clean. “I’m baffled you made it as far as you have. You’ve felled the Crystal Sage, haven’t you?”

 

“Hey, just because you gave up, doesn’t mean I have to.” Nobody retorts haughtily, before sighing. “... Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. That was out of line. But… It… I thought I was going to kill the Lords of Cinder, before what just happened, happened. I…” Nobody blushes, a hand rubbing their full, if slowly draining, belly. “... It’s kinda gross, but I’ll tell you everything that happened after I hit the forest…” Hawkwood doesn’t get the chance to opt out of the explanation, but to his fortune, Nobody skips through most of their night with the crystal lizard, only mentioning the important bits, like falling asleep in the lizard’s arms after an, ah, “altercation”. 

 

Hawkwood, thoroughly disturbed, asks, “Were you dropped on your head, repeatedly, as an infant?” 

 

Nobody, unamused and now clean, huffs, “No. Though… I don’t really… Remember that part of my life anymore. The furthest back I can remember is the Asylum…” They sigh when Hawkwood stares uncomprehendingly back. “It’s not here, anymore. Lordran… Isn’t here, anymore, even though Firelink is and so many other things…” 

 

Fearing another explanation, Hawkwood interjects, “Then why not search for that, instead of this asinine and dangerous quest? If you’re fool enough to miss it, be fool enough to find it. It will almost certainly serve as a better purpose than searching for Cinders.” 

 

Nobody sighs, shaking their head. “I don’t think I want to do either of those things.” 

 

“You don’t?” 

 

“Nah. I think I want to do something else entirely. But… Well, I've got to be strong to make it work. That’s why I came back to Firelink; I have a few thousand souls to spend. So… If there’s strength in pursuing Cinder, then I’ll take it, I think.” Nobody muses, standing in the water and staring out over the gorgeous mountain faces that surround the distant sky. “But I don’t care for  **flame** , not like I care for  _ crystal… _ ” 

 

Hawkwood rises, jaw clenched and his eyes on Nobody. “You’ll give the Firekeeper a right good fit if you say anything like that to her. But perhaps you might have the stones to make it work…” Hawkwood muses, Nobody’s expression brightening behind their visor. “... Don’t give me that look, I’m not saying I’m going to help you. Just… Don’t get caught. From one deserter to another.” 

 

Nobody beams, clapping Hawkwood on the shoulder as they move back towards the shrine. “Trust me, you’ve said everything you need to.” 


End file.
